


The Price You Pay

by sexonastick



Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, Domestic, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexonastick/pseuds/sexonastick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an alternate season three timeline, Juliet is left in charge of keeping the recently captured Kate out of trouble. Good luck with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price You Pay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic based on the idea that while Kate was captured by the Others she was kept in Juliet's house. So the assumption is that Ben never had cancer, therefore Jack wasn't nearly as important as he was in canon, and Jack and Sawyer managed to escape. Don't ask how, just go with it. The show doesn't answer your questions either.
> 
> Originally written 2/27/10.

You don't ever really get used to captivity, even when it suddenly comes with fresh towels and lilac smelling sheets. Kate wouldn't have pegged her for the flower-scented type. Could be someone else does the wash.

Maybe that will be Kate's new job. Graduate from hauling rocks to cleaning duty. First thing's first, she checks the windowsill. No dust and no way out; it's bolted from the outside with bars in front of the glass.

Either they were preparing this place for her arrival well in advance, or Kate's host is about as trusted around here as she is.

She's not sure which option is worse.

 

*

A bookshelf, a dresser. Nothing breakable, nothing sharp. Floor boards all secure.

No mirrors, no pens, no exposed bolts on the door. Only wooden hangers in the closet and the smell of food cooking from beyond the hall.

The handcuffs are beginning to chafe.

It isn't really surrender to pretend to play along. If they're dumb enough to fall for it, that's just the same as a victory.

So Kate says, "I'm ready to be good," when the blonde they call Juliet comes to door with a grilled sandwich and a wry smile.

"Oh?"

"I'm ready--" For what? Kate isn't sure what these people want to hear, how they see themselves. "You know. To be a team player."

"Oh, that's nice."

Okay, new tactic. "Look, could you just take these off? It's been--" She doesn't know, no concept of time anymore with all the movement between here and the cages; "-- _days_."

That works. It has to, because at least that much is true. That one thing.

"Please," says Kate, but Juliet only drops off the plate and leaves without another word.

Beyond the door, Kate can hear voices. There are people talking, lots of them, but she can't quite make out the words.

Kate thinks for the moment that she could always call for help, but she isn't sure if there's anyone left who cares enough to come.

 

* *

Austen thinks she's much quieter than she really is. Thinks she's clever, too. She must think a lot of things.

She looks at Juliet and sees -- what? A mark? Or just someone's guard dog. Ben's pet. That's probably what she sees when she looks at any of them. Like they're all just ants, small pieces of a whole.

Maybe that's not too far from the truth. They all have their purpose here, like a function inside a single living entity. But if that's the case, Juliet isn't an arm or a foot and she certainly isn't the heart. She's an eye.

She was always good at reading other people. In the time before, in that other life she had, she was always so afraid. Afraid of the world, but especially of the people in it. The true nature of a person can be terrifying if viewed in full. The only difference now is that living on the island has taught her to believe in what she sees.

Juliet used to give people the benefit of the doubt, but she knows better now. Now she's always prepared.

And however clever she obviously thinks she is, Austen isn't very good at hiding her feelings. She thinks she's so smart, plays it so cool.

She sits at the edge of the bed with her back straight and folds her hands in her lap, trying to give off a sense of calm. Maybe she thinks Juliet is stupid.

Maybe Kate thinks she's the only person perceptive enough to notice little things -- like how her foot is jogging up and down, causing tiny chain links between her wrists to rattle and shake.

So when Austen says, "What'd you bring me this time?" she does it with a smirk that she must think is convincing. She must think Juliet believes this act or she wouldn't bother.

Has this really worked for her before?

"Lotion." Juliet sets it on the dresser just beyond Kate's reach. She'll either have to stand or ask for help. "For your wrists." Juliet nods to indicate the red marks left by the handcuffs but Kate's eyes don't follow.

She's too busy pretending not to care. "You trust me with that?" She's thinking she could use this to grease the gears and lock, slip free and then somehow make an escape.

Kate Austen runs. That's all she's ever amounted to. It's right there in her file. She hasn't realized yet that there is no great escape here, no place to get to. It's an island. They tend to essentially be round.

But if she wants to run in circles or butt her head against a wall, it's not any of Juliet's concern.

"I don't particularly trust you with a piece of paper, Kate." She likes saying Austen's name. She likes the fear that lights up at the very back of her eyes. They know this much about her without having to be told; she's wondering what else they know, and there is so much Juliet could tell her.

She has a list of every life this woman destroyed. She could read it off and see if her tears are as unconvincing as her strength.

"But," she says instead; "I also know your wrists are hurting. You need something."

"I could be faking it."

It's obvious now that Austen isn't going to give any ground yet. Not today.

With Juliet's luck, she'll come back later to find all the spare shirts she set aside for Kate have been vandalized with Vaseline. Hydrating aloe soaking into every seam.

Better to take the gesture back for now. It's easy to play good cop, bad cop all alone when your subject is their own worst enemy.

"Because, Kate," Juliet says while pulling the door closed behind her; "You're not that good an actress."

 

* *

These people and their fucking mind games.

Kate's pretty sure she could cope with a real cell. She's seen bars before and the handcuffs are the easiest part of this so far.

It's the people she sees passing outside that are doing her in. The children she hears laughing and the men waving to each other, saying, "Great weather we're having, huh?"

She's caught in a god damn suburban nightmare with bolts over every exit. Some days she closes her eyes and wakes up not remembering who or where she is.

She thinks she's Monica again. Married to a man who loves the stranger he sees inside her, housewife who holds burrito night on Wednesdays and wakes up early for Church on Sunday.

Except she doesn't know what day of the week it is now.

They must be drugging her. That's her only explanation for where all the hours have disappeared to or where these dreams of memories are coming from. She has an image of Juliet at the back of her mind. She sits with Kate at her bedside, rubbing gently over her wrists with some kind of cream or oil.

The memory of it is sweet and sharp, just like the smell.

Kate is reclining on the bed when Juliet comes to collect what's left of her breakfast and the memory surges up like a physical blow. She looks at Juliet and can see the shape of her smile.

From her place in the doorway, Juliet watches Kate with a look of careful consideration, like she's something under a microscope. Kate remembers the feel of her fingers, so strangely vivid and unusually gentle, and she has to look away again.

Kate tries to recall what Claire has said about these people. The things they did to her head.

She's starting to wish they would just ask for something so that at least she'd have a target to resist. All Kate has been given to resent so far is a comfy bed, clean clothes, and a shower.

It's getting hard to keep all her anger and resentment built up to the right levels you need to keep looking for escape. Apathy is her enemy.

Good thing she's had so many years practice at this.

 

* *

Of all the impulsive, selfish idiots Juliet could be stuck with, she gets Austen stomping around in her guest bedroom, poking at her things.

Juliet actually caught her trying to tear the sheets with her teeth. God knows why. "You know, next time I can bring some salt if you think it'll help," she said, but Kate didn't seem to find it funny.

Even her sense of humor is tiresome. She probably thinks all the best jokes are about bank robberies and guns. They could have a whole conversation about gun safety and it would probably be the most scintillating thing Austen could have to offer.

But Juliet prefers to be seen as simple. Non-threatening. It seems like the friendlier option to leave Kate with that last shred of hope. More polite, really.

It's so obvious by now that Austen's looking for an enemy. She needs a target to direct her animosity toward, and Juliet doesn't feel like giving her that release.

It's more fun to play at unassuming, smiling when she opens the door every time. "Do you really have to make so much noise, Kate?" She says it soft enough to sound sincere even if she already knows the answer -- every answer -- to the question that is Kate Austen.

That's why it's no surprise to find the dresser on its side, half its contents emptied on the floor. The only real wonder is how Kate manages to make such a mess with her hands kept six inches apart.

Judging from her current position sprawled in the midst of the mess on the floor, the answer to _how does Kate make such a mess_ would be _with great enthusiasm_.

"Maybe," Kate says, panting and heaving. She obviously wants to be standing for this, firm and resolved, but without the aide of her hands the most Kate can manage quickly is her knees. " _Maybe_ if you let me out once in a while. Instead of locked up here all the time." She looks like she could spit. "What am I, your prisoner?"

At this point, Juliet's willing to chalk it up as a win that Kate only _looks_ like she might spit instead of her actually doing it. Week one was a very trying experience for both of them and it was still going to be a long time before Juliet bothered baking more muffins for the ungrateful little bitch.

Cursing she didn't mind. Even the times Kate has tried to hit her are understandable. But spitting on baked goods is just _rude_.

So much about Kate Austen is rude. Uncivilized.

That's what makes it so much fun to see her reaction when Juliet says things like, "Well, you make a good point." Because it's obvious from Kate's expression that she has no idea which point Juliet could mean. Juliet takes pity this time and clarifies, saying, "I should let you out sometimes."

Obviously Kate's on and off hunger strike isn't working out to her advantage. She's so light by now that it's no effort at all for Juliet to haul her up to her feet and this time she doesn't even jerk away. "You-- What?" Maybe because she's too busy stammering.

"Look, the book club meets in an hour and a half. How about you join us?"

All that outrage. All that anger. Kate has nowhere to put it and her teeth are almost grinding from not letting it out.

Juliet almost feels sorry for her. Austen looks so lost without her fear and hate to guide her.

"... well. Um. I guess so." She blinks a few times, shifting her weight.

"Alright." Juliet takes hold of the handcuffs at their center and pulls Kate closer to whisper in her ear. "Half of my guests are going to be armed. Don't try anything we'll both end up regretting, okay?"

Sorry for her, but not exactly stupid.

 

* *

Kate had actually assumed that "book club" was some kind of code. Maybe a tactical meeting or a gathering around a fire to share stories.

Apparently book club is a bunch of people in polo shirts and khaki shorts coming together to talk about their _feelings_ and how much they got in touch with their inner child while reading about make believe people. Like the Oprah kind of book club.

This was not what Kate was expecting, but at least it's a new room in the house. She finds herself staring at the objects around her. The sofa, the coffee table and counter top leading into a kitchen. With a refrigerator complete with magnets and lists.

Someone says, "You mind if I get a drink?" to Juliet and they open the refrigerator to a happy electrical hum.

Kate stares at anything except the book. She stares at Juliet sometimes until she notices her host looking back.

Instead she watches the walls and the paintings there, the pictures. She looks at the people, of all different kinds. She stares at their faces, all so out of place here. She can't even begin to guess which of them has a gun.

"Kate, is there something you'd like to share?" Juliet asks and the whole group turns to listen. They look at her like she's a talking dog.

A freak show. "No, I'm good." A show they're glad they didn't have to pay for. But Kate is happy to disappoint them; maybe one day they'll stop looking so hard.

First she'll have to get Juliet off her back, though.

She sits Kate down after everyone else has left, sets the handcuffs on the table beside them, and begins by massaging Kate's wrists. "You never participate, Kate." Juliet sounds like one of Kate's teachers, disappointed but not surprised.

"Yeah, well it's hard to keep up with the reading with these things on." She nods toward one cuff as it's clicked into place. "Sort of gets in the way."

"Oh, I imagine so."

It could be Kate's imagination, but it seems like Juliet snaps the second cuff on even tighter than usual.

 

* *

The most important thing Juliet has learned in dealing with Kate is that it's best if you allow her to think the concessions she's making are her own idea.

She wants out of the handcuffs, but Kate doesn't get anything she wants anymore without learning to say please and thank you. It's Kate who suggests that if Juliet can't trust her to roam around a locked and barred room all day without restraints then she should feel free to search her every night and at dawn.

Of course this means that Kate has decided to hide any contraband in some other location, but that was to be expected. It's helpful at least to have the possibilities narrowed down and Juliet still goes through the ritual every night of carefully inspecting.

"Arms up," she says as she unbuttons. Kate puts on a show of looking bored. She sighs and rolls her eyes, but the pulse in her throat is steady and rising. Getting faster. Juliet runs a hand around Kate's back, from one hip to her spine and then up.

"What exactly do you think I'm hiding?"

Juliet smiles. She doesn't bother to hide her amusement; it would be such an obvious lie. "Do you really want me to answer that right now?" She leans, one hand inside Kate's pocket.

Kate hums and clears her throat, pretending this is normal. What's funny is how it's starting to get that way day by day. She gives this up so easily now, without resistance.

People can become so eager to surrender their own dignity when they think you'll be moved or impressed by the gesture. Kate must still think of Juliet as someone capable of strong emotion.

How disappointed she'll be in the end.

 

* *

Kate has never questioned her own resolve but she can't help but wonder what the end game is anymore.

Say she gets away. She escapes from Juliet and her curious circle of readers. She leaves behind all the Others and returns to her friends.

But where would she be running to? Who would she be escaping for? It's been weeks, it must have been, and nobody has come. She's been given up as lost or dead: beyond hope.

She wonders if they still think of her. If Locke misses his scouting partner or Claire looks for her to watch over Aaron before remembering again. She wonders about Sawyer. About Jack.

Kate wakes up in the middle of the night to a sound like someone crying. She can't be sure why, but she tries the door at first, even though it's always locked.

The sound is coming from down the hall. The north side of the house. Kate has never been further in that direction than the edge of her own doorway.

The sound is quieter now, almost stopping, and Kate returns to bed. With one ear pressed to her own pillow, she falls asleep to the soft sound of someone else's sighs.

 

* *

The book club has a new member and everyone seems to be so interested in having her there that they've finally become bored with Kate. It's not until the second time she's joined them that another member identifies this new girl as Ben's daughter.

That explains all the uneasy but amused glances when one man raises his hand and asks if this week's reading is really age appropriate.

"I'm fifteen," the girl cuts in, so outraged that her voice has become nasal; "not _five_."

Her name is Alex and Kate likes her already.

 

*

Alex is a pushy kid, but mostly in the good way. Inquisitive. That's the word for it.

She reminds Kate of herself when she was younger, and boy should that scare the shit out of everyone.

For some reason she seems to be spending more and more time staying over, even outside the book club. Kate notices because she's allowed out of the room now, at least as long as there's someone there to keep an eye on her. Even a fifteen year old someone counts, apparently.

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

Inquisitive is definitely one word for it. "Yeah, but." Kate can see Juliet in the other room. She's baking again, with her back to them. "He didn't die."

"But you have killed someone. My dad said."

Their physical features aren't remotely similar, but the way Alex can talk about anything at all without flinching, almost without blinking, is one way she resembles her father exactly. "What else has your dad said?"

"That I can't trust you."

Well, Kate can't fault the man for that one.

 

* *

Juliet has been essentially tasked with babysitting Alex for a few days, though neither of them call it that. She doesn't need the resentment of a teenager added to her list of worries.

But she's a good kid, mostly well meaning, and on the upside her father seldom comes around when she's here. Not since the day almost a year ago when Alex mentioned she had helped Juliet with folding and putting away clothes and asked, over and over, "Dad, why are you blushing?"

For someone who has grown up with Ben as her primary role model, Alex somehow manages an almost excess of honesty. She's a terrible liar for a teenager.

So it's no surprise that when both her immature house guests go abruptly silent when Juliet returns to the room, it only takes a well timed, "Do I need to have a talk with your father," before Alex is pointing at Kate in the other chair.

"She's making a lock pick!"

Apparently Kate doesn't remember much about fifteen year olds, because she looks genuinely surprised by the betrayal.

 _Sorry_ , mouths Alex before moving to make room on the sofa for Juliet and her tray of muffins.

"Well, Kate?"

The corners of Kate's mouth move as if she's chewing things over, weighing her options. Finally: "I don't know what she means."

Juliet thinks she shows amazing restraint in not sighing or rolling her eyes. "Well, Kate, if you're asking me do I believe the fifteen year old girl--"

"Almost sixteen," Alex chimes in, though no one seems to notice.

"-- or the criminal. Well, I just don't know. It's such a hard decision."

Kate really doesn't like it when Juliet uses sarcasm. It takes away most of her oh so witty responses and leaves her only with glaring.

But that's the point. The conversation moves so much faster when Kate keeps her mouth shut. "Your book, please." For just a moment Kate looks reluctant, as if she's seriously considering overpowering both of them and making a break for the trees. But she hands the book over after her brief hesitation, avoiding Juliet's gaze. Not a good sign.

Inside and near the back, trapped between the pages and close to the spine, Juliet finds little swivels and curls of metal. Tiny mechanisms of a whole. "Who gave you a pen?" she asks without looking up, but there's no response from Kate.

Alex pushes up against Juliet's side to pear over her shoulder. "You got these from a pen?" The question is directed at Kate, who smiles at her hands without speaking.

"Who gave you a _pen_?" Juliet repeats, still in disbelief.

"Tall. Balding."

"That's Daryl," Alex provides helpfully.

"You're a criminal," Juliet says, not sure why she's having to explain these things to the two of them. "Why would anyone give you a pen?"

"I don't know, maybe they weren't too concerned with me writing a ransom list considering _I'm_ the one who's being held hostage." When Kate starts feeling really outraged and put upon her words get short and clipped and even her shoulders draw in. She becomes smaller, defensive, and tries to be funny.

Juliet doesn't think that she's funny, but at least Alex seems impressed. "Can you show me how you did that?"

"No," they both say at the same time.

"Fine," huffs Alex. "I won't show you my pocket knife."

"You have--" But Juliet can't even finish the thought. She'd bother to show outrage if she could muster up enough energy to be surprised. But this is Alex and she isn't. "Hand it over."

Alex jerks up, shoulders stiff. "What?" She hadn't realized that the focus could shift so quickly from Kate to her. "But it took me hours!"

"One rule. One simple rule in my entire house and that is no weapons." They've got Juliet angry now and she hates it, how her volume builds and builds and her voice speeds up almost out of her control. "No weapons! I mean, Jesus, is that so hard?" She could almost slap that falsely contrite expression off Austen's mouth if she didn't think it'd set a bad example for Alexandra.

"But you've got a gun."

"You have a _gun_?" Kate says, her expression shifting from amusement to shock. She might even be impressed, though that's definitely a smirk that's starting to creep back in.

On second thought, maybe Alex could benefit from even the slightest concept of consequences for your words and actions. It's something to think about, but for now Juliet has to regain her composure, shaking her hair back from her face. "Yes, well, that's because _I'm_ an adult."

Alex points at Kate again. "She's an adult."

"No," Juliet says, relieved to find herself able to chuckle at that. It means she's regaining her calm and perspective. "She really isn't."

No matter how hard Juliet tries, Austen just doesn't seem to grasp her sense of humor.

 

*

After Juliet takes away her contraband, Kate spends days in a sulk.

She says things like, "If you're so sure you can't trust me," and Juliet wonders how Kate got the mistaken impression that she ever did.

"Are you ever coming out of there?" she asks, knocking at Kate's door.

"I'm kind of busy in here."

"I can't imagine what you could be doing that's so interesting." This is just like dealing with Alex. Yet another teenager. "My house, remember? I know everything that's in that room. None of it's fascinating."

"I'm _reading_."

"Well," Juliet says, hoping her sneer translates through the door. "I hope you'll finally have something to _contribute_ to the discussion this week then, Austen."

"Ha!" is all Kate says, and even she seems to realize that it's a rather lame response since nothing follows after.

Juliet is polite enough to let it pass. Unlike Kate, she knows how to let things go.

 

* *

Kate doesn't really consider it a concession when she leaves the safety of her bedroom to join Juliet and Alex for dinner.

The kid is pretty sweet and she obviously deserves a role model around who isn't a total nut job. Kate isn't exactly the ideal person to have around impressionable young minds but she's not bad given the context.

"I hope you both are hungry," Juliet says in a clipped way that makes it clear she's still upset with both of them.

Kate shouldn't care, she realizes, and it bothers her that she does. Somehow she really does, and she even smiles at Juliet. It's tight-lipped but it's still a real smile, saying, "Yeah, I'm starved."

Alex picks up on her cue, nodding, "It all looks great."

But Juliet doesn't seem very impressed by either of them.

Kate pokes at her food and chews quietly. It tastes even better than it looks. She watches Juliet and wonders where she keeps her gun.

Probably in her bedroom, on the north side of the house, but Kate's never been that way before.

 

*

Sometimes Alex and a few of the others all play football. Kate's seen them playing out on the grass. The game sometimes happens even without Alex there, but whatever Alex asks for she tends to get. If she wants to play football with the big boys, she can.

So when she asks to invite Kate out to play, it's only Juliet who voices an objection. Everyone else is so eager to concede, but Kate is apparently seen as being under Juliet's care. Her responsibility. Like a pet.

"You can come watch," says Kate. She's already on the front porch, having slipped out when Alex came to call. She assumes this gives her an advantage. Much harder for Juliet to say no with both of them already outside and waiting.

"Gee, can I? That's generous of you."

"To keep an eye on me, I mean." Kate has already stripped down to only her tank top and jeans. She takes another step and is on the grass, squinting in the sunlight. "Come on."

The others are already starting to toss the ball around, making noise behind them. Alex is so anxious she's started clutching at Kate's elbow, leaning and swaying with those big eager eyes of hers, saying, "Pleeease?"

Juliet frowns at them and crosses her arms as if to steady her resolve. "I don't even like football, you know."

"We're not asking you to keep score," Kate laughs, and somehow it gets Juliet to smile.

It's a small victory, but that's all it takes for Kate to know they've won.

 

*

She doesn't know all the other players, but that hardly seems to matter when it comes to knocking someone flat on their ass.

Of course Kate intends to play tackle, which is why she's pretty confused when someone points and tells her she's running up field left.

"What?" Kate laughs and shakes her head, incredulous. "No. I want to hit someone not run and play catch." She shakes her head again. "Where do I stand if I get to hit someone?"

Alex grins at her from across the huddle, but everyone else just looks unsure.

"Seriously?" says Tom. For such a giant man, he's a bit of a pushover. Kate's pretty sure she could take him.

"Yes," she says, trying not to let her disbelief show. "Seriously."

These people are the big bad scary Others? Being held captive by them for this long is almost _embarrassing_. Now Kate's going to have to knock one or two of them on their ass just for the sake of her pride.

 

* *

Juliet sits out on the grass with a book in her lap and lemonade at her side. Every once in a while she glances up over the top of the pages to consider the game in progress.

She doesn't know the score but if Kate's grin or the cocky shift and swagger of her hips are any indication, her team would seem to be winning. Once or twice, Kate even winks. She must think she's just adorable right now.

The book is a good read but thick. It was Kate's week to make the choice for book club, and Juliet's not sure if she's more impressed or surprised that Austen would pick a book with so many pages. _East of Eden_ is no small read.

"Whole lot of time spent in bus stations," Kate had said dryly, and Juliet accepted it at that.

It seemed rude to psychoanalyze any further, for instance pointing out that perhaps Kate's selection of a tale of a family's total destruction because of the mistakes of one selfish and impulsive child might say something about her. Whatever she might think of Kate's intellect, Juliet is pretty sure she's capable of working that one out on her own.

The sun is getting hotter overhead and she has to shield her eyes to keep reading at all, but Juliet won't retreat to the shade. Ben is watching the game from the porch nearby and she prefers whatever distance she can get.

Even when he eventually comes to her, his own hand shielding his eyes from the sun, she stares straight ahead at the players on the field instead of looking back.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Ben waits for the reply he's sure will come, but he'll have to be disappointed. "Very hot out, Juliet." He always says her name when he wants something, even if that thing is only her.

"Yep."

Juliet turns a page and looks down again. It's intended as a dismissal, but Ben clears his throat and presses on; "Do you think that maybe you could bring us out refreshments? More lemonade, perhaps." His lip quivers in a tiny amused smile. "Share with the rest of the class, why don't you."

It isn't really a question. With Ben that kind of comment might as well be an order. Too bad Juliet's no good at listening to those. "I'm sure they'll manage."

"I don't know." He sounds determined not to show his frustration, which is always a dead give away. His words are broken up by quick but quiet breaths. "Austen looks about ready to pass out."

Juliet looks again.

The ponytail Kate has twisted her hair up into has started to come undone. Loose strands cling to her throat, a flushed and pale pink. Sweat drips from her temple and she lifts the bottom of her tank top to swipe across her face.

The lines of the exposed area of her stomach are etched vividly in shadows and sweat. When she drops the fabric again it clings to her twisting curves, the shift of her hips and thighs as she lowers down into a crouch.

Kate smiles, so bright and sharp in her confidence and thrusts herself directly into opposition, bracing her feet in the dirt and growling and whooping once before dragging the other body down at the waist. So there is that strength Kate is so proud of. It exists after all.

She had done such a good job of hiding it.

"Maybe you should get her a towel, Juliet," Ben says, bringing Juliet back to herself and her common sense.

"Yes," she says. "Right." She clears her throat and stares steadily at the curving lines on the page instead of those shifting and snaking over the grass. "After her shower."

 

* *

They won. Of course they won. It wasn't even close, and Kate is quietly savoring her victory by collapsing on Juliet's sofa for a nap.

The satisfaction of it lasts about one full minute when Juliet comes in to find her there, raising her voice and saying, "Oh no. No, not my furniture, Austen. You're filthy."

Kate considers pretending to be asleep, but Juliet's stronger than she looks. She makes a few failed attempts to lift Kate up physically and when the third one actually makes a little headway, it's time for Kate to squirm out of her grasp.

"Shower," Juliet says, steering toward the bathroom with one hand pressing on Kate's shoulder the entire way there. As if she thinks Kate might get lost on the way, or is unfamiliar with its location.

Kate is too tired to argue. She pulls herself up onto the counter by the sink and leans against the mirror. Her shoulder leaves streaks in the steam that's already forming once Juliet turns the water on.

"Did you know there's a whore named Kate in that book you picked?" Juliet's back is turned as she leans over to adjust the temperature. For a small moment, Kate wonders what would happen if she were to kick her.

Bad idea really. She'd probably crack her head open, and then where would Kate be?

"I did," Kate says. "And did you know there's a creepy shower scene in the book you picked?"

When Juliet turns around again, she's laughing. Wow, that's twice in one day. If Kate didn't know better, she'd assume she's rubbing off on her. Wouldn't be so bad.

Juliet could use a sense of humor.

"This is creepy, Kate?"

She isn't really sure what to make of that speculative look Juliet is giving her. It's as if Kate's under careful consideration, but for what? "I don't know," she says, sliding down from the sink. "Could be getting there."

The water's up too high and steam is starting to fog up the space between them. Juliet flicks a switch to turn on an overhead fan and looks away. "Don't leave dirty clothes on my floor, alright? I've told you before, take them back to your room."

"My room." Kate smiles. "So you're not going to stay and watch, I guess."

Juliet laughs again, but this time it's too fast, too loud and hard. Her eyes move to Kate's face and then away, and suddenly Kate knows what this is. She's played this angle before.

"Try not to make a mess, Austen," and Juliet is moving for the door, fingers grazing against the doorknob when Kate takes hold of her wrist with one hand and braces the other against the door.

All the space in between is propelled forward in one movement, with Juliet pinned between Kate and the door and Kate's mouth caught against the corner of Juliet's. Her aim's a little off, but she blames velocity.

Juliet gasps, starts to speak, but Kate takes the chance to be guided by the sound, drawn to the warmth and the heat.

Juliet tastes sour. Lemonade and a faint trace of mint. Her fingers work against Kate's hips, Kate's face, and then she's pushing her back, nails digging in until Kate relents with a gasp.

She smiles, leaning into the hands holding her back, pressing in far enough to whisper, "Is that what you were looking for?" Kate's grin is eager, eyes wide, but they manage to go even wider still with the sudden jolt and shock of a slap.

Juliet is stronger than she looks. She pushes Kate back and hits her again, this time with her fist closed.

It's jarring. Kate learned to take hits since she was about eight years old, but she hasn't had too many right after a kiss. Can tend to catch a girl off-guard. She sways and grabs for the sink again.

Her eyes are still on the ground when Juliet composes herself, shoulders straight and voice icy, saying, "Clean up your mess when you're done."

The door is closed and bolted.

The water's up too high and Kate can barely see a fucking thing.

 

*

The hallway feels extra cold after the condensed heat of the bathroom. Kate picks up her clothes and straightens the towels on the rack. She even wipes away the smudges from the mirror.

There isn't any noise from the living room or kitchen, and at first Kate wonders if Juliet might have gone to bed.

The sun set about an hour ago but the night is overcast and the stars look misty and far away.

Juliet has one leg curled up beneath her on the sofa and the other is propping up her book. Kate's book.

"How far are you?" Kate stops at the edge of the hallway and waits. She fidgets.

She doesn't know what to do with her hands.

Juliet turns a page without looking up. "I'm sorry, but I'm reading." She's silent a little longer, and then, "Did you need something? Extra towels?"

"No." Even Kate is surprised by how soft her voice sounds. The house seems so quiet and still; maybe it's because Alex already went home. "No, I'm good."

Kate sits down at the other end of the sofa, but that might be too close for Juliet. She shifts and turns, eyeing Kate again. Her expression has changed, but it's something that Kate's seen on Juliet's face before. It's patiently restrained dislike, like the kind she uses with Ben.

"Do you want to play poker or something?"

Juliet looks like she wants to smirk but won't expend the effort. "Gee, Kate. I just don't know. Do I want to _gamble_ with a criminal?"

"Not for stakes." Kate sometimes still forgets that these people have things to bet with other than pieces of fruit. "For fun."

Not that anything she and Juliet do together seems like it'll be much fun just right now.

"You can't bluff for shit."

And Juliet's eyes are back on the book. It's actually starting to get Kate curious. She wonders if they might be near the same spot, but realizes that's a bit stupid to be thinking about now. "Hey uh," she starts, but isn't really sure where she's going. She'd better think fast, though, because Juliet's composure is starting to melt away and Kate already knows she's got a solid right hook. "Well how about... go fish?"

Okay, so maybe that was a stupid idea too.

"Sorry, Kate, but unlike you I'm a grown up."

So maybe Kate deserves a few smartass responses but the condescension is starting to really piss her off. It might not be very productive how it makes her feel so much more petulant, maybe a bit more childish, but she finds herself saying, "Okay, so then invite Alex over so I can play with her."

Juliet laughs again, for the third time today, but this one doesn't actually sound happy or amused. "Okay, let's do that. And while we're at it, I can tell Ben how much you want to _play_ with his daughter." Her expression is so calm and contained, motionless except for the meaningful raise of her eyebrow.

Realization of Juliet's meaning smacks Kate between the eyes like a second sucker punch. "Oh, fuck you." There's a lot of things Kate might be -- total fuck up probably being one of them -- but she isn't a pervert. She's never going to be like Wayne, and, "That's fucking low, even for you."

"Low for _me_?" Another laugh. "So I'm good enough for the great Kate Austen to use me, but otherwise-- what?"

It's obvious this is only going to keep building unless she defuses it now. There's still a sick feeling in Kate's throat, but she swallows it down along with her pride, saying, "Look, I made a mistake. I get that, I do. I misunderstood."

The way the pale moonlight passes in through the window makes Juliet's expression appear to shift and change, drawing long shadows across her sharp features. "Obviously. You thought I couldn't possibly resist, right?"

Juliet's eyes move quickly across her face. Consideration and then dismissal.

"Don't flatter yourself, Kate. You're not as special as you apparently think." She places a bookmark between the pages, closing the book in her lap so that she can lean in closer, lowering her voice. "Do you think that out in the real world a man like Jack would even look twice at someone like you?"

The slick feeling in her throat restricts, almost choking Kate even when she laughs. She shakes her head and her jaw almost aches from the way her teeth clench. "Fuck no."

 

* *

Just like any other animal, Austen is no fun if she's completely broken.

If Juliet has to keep her around for much longer, she has to keep the experience tolerable.

"Okay," she says, suddenly relenting and careful not to show her amusement at the confusion that crosses Kate's face. "So let's play Scrabble."

So much confusion apparently that Kate can't even speak.

Juliet even has enough time to put the book down on the coffee table and retrieve the game board from the closet before Kate says, "I'm terrible at Scrabble."

"Yes, I know. I've endured your vocabulary for weeks now."

But apparently this is one area where Austen isn't lying at all. She's absolutely terrible at Scrabble. She loses every game, most of them by almost 100 points.

This is nice. It helps to put Kate back in that predefined box, that space in Juliet's head where she belongs. Uncivilized, unappealing Kate Austen, the life ruiner. It helps and before the night's through Juliet finds that she's smiling again.

"Good night," Kate says, before slipping into the darkness of her bedroom.

Juliet's feeling kind, and so she says it too. "Night, Austen."

But Juliet still bolts both their bedroom doors, just to be safe.


End file.
